


The Sorry Losers Club

by ConnorProject2K17



Series: Dickhard Danganronpa [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Autistic Kiyotaka Ishimaru, M/M, Oc drama teacher only cause there are no actual teachers in the game and i refuse to watch the anime, They put on a musical, Twenty fifth annual putnam county spelling bee to be specific, autistic gundam and peko, because they all kind of relate to a certain character, dont worry if you dint know the musical you wont be confused, gonta is so sweet, if you do know the musical you know exactly who mui’s going to play, peko and taka are related, spoliers; they are really bad at putting on musicals, taka and mondo have a enemies to lovers slowburn cause ive never done thast before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorProject2K17/pseuds/ConnorProject2K17
Summary: Realising taka’s lack of friends is starting to affect him, Kyoko invites him to join the Social Limbo Club-also named the Sorry Losers Club-with her and their peers; all of whom have difficulty interacting with others. With the greatly disliked idea to put on a musical, Taka, Kyoko, Peko, Gundam, Mui and Gonta are now put in the uncomfortable position to perform in front of their school to show off their ‘improved’ social skills.This explanation sucks I can’t explain it, they put on a musical and 4 out of 5 of them are simps.
Relationships: Iruma Miu/K1-B0, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko, Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham
Series: Dickhard Danganronpa [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774765
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	1. Down With The Sickness

Kiyotaka Ishimaru had only been at Hopes Peak Academy for five months and everything had already gone wrong.

It had started on a nondescript Monday morning: the cafeteria had run out of his preferred breakfast of plain rice and instead he had to settle for the only other free option of soup. Irritation was boiling around his stomach as he delicately sipped down the unfamiliar taste (‘how do you run out of rice, it’s a side dish on a majority of the main meals here, obviously i’m the only one who’ll really be affected and I shouldn’t complain but really’).

He finished his boring soup and made his way back to his dorm to prepare for the day. He had barely got three feet from his door when a burning sensation started in his gut. He stumbled, gripping his jacket and sped walked into his dorm bathroom. There began the grueling fifteen minutes hunched over his toilet, shaking and whimpering.

It was like a white hot chain was attached to his belly and was pulling him to his knees everytime he attempted to stand; the gross aftertaste of the soup mixed with the vomit threatening to fall overboard left Kiyotaka gazing longingly at his dorm mandated shower, picturing sitting crumpled in a ball while cool water rained over his sick form. But Kiyotaka was no quitter, he was an average person and average people have to make do. 

Lucky for him he had already put on his uniform to go down to the cafeteria, his jacket had been shed to reduce the amount of sweat he was producing, plus his bag was always organised the night before in case of incidents like this. Once again his perfect organisation came to the rescue and he had only fifteen minutes before he had to leave for class. Splashing some cold water on his face and drowning himself in soap to cover the smell of sick and sweat Kiyotaka quickly sped walked to homeroom, ignoring the burning in his stomach.

“Good morning everyone! Ready to start the day!” He called out in his usual cheery demeanor-perhaps too cheery today, to ignore his intestines about to turn themselves into pretzels-and received the usual annoyed groan in response. Really, his peers could stand to be a bit more enthusiastic.

“Good morning Ishim-are you okay?!” He looked up from where he was putting down his bag to see his teacher Miss Fujita staring, horrified, at his face.

“A-ah, yes, thank you for your concern Miss! How are you?” Nice, smooth, no one will notice. And while Kiyotaka was never one for expression recognition, her face only twisted further into one of worry.

“Are you sure? You look terrible!”

What if he hadn’t been ill? Then she would have committed a terrible social faux pas. He straightened himself up until his spine ached and gave her a bigger smile.

“Don’t worry Miss I am perfectly capable of performing any and all task you assign-“ he was cut off by something sharp hitting the back of his head.

“Here dickshit have you seen yourself today?” Enoshima’s voice called out from the back of the class. He shook off the anger snarling in the back of his head (‘how come everyone else gets to ignore social cues but when I do it i’m yelled at?”) and picked up whatever she had thrown off of the floor. A handheld mirror. He flipped it open.

Jesus he looked terrible! There was sweat dripping down his nose and chin, his complexion was pale enough to show the veins underneath and the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. Damn why hadn’t he checked a mirror before coming out, then he could have avoided this; instead it just looked like he was intentionally looking for sympathy, looking all pathetic and miserable like this. He could have asked Ludenburg for some makeup as they were the same shade-although then she would have wanted to know why and he would be in the same position he was in now and-

“Would someone please take Mr Ishimaru to the nurse's office?” Miss Fujita called out to his horror, and he was about to deny ever needing help and would someone please restart the lesson before he continued to interrupt it when,

“Yeah, sure, i’ll take ‘im.”

Kiyotaka whipped around in fury as Owada-someone who he loathed from the moment he set eyes on him all those months ago-stalked over to the desk.

“Don’t you da-“

“Oh whatever Panic Prince, let’s go.” Owada grabbed Kiyotaka by his bicep and pulled him to his shaking feet. Kiyotaka barely had time to register what had happened in the space of the ten minutes since he’d walked into class before he was being hauled away; the shining light of his homeroom growing further and further away.

“Would you unhand me this instant!” He yelled to his capture. Owada didn’t let go but only tightened his grasp until it hurt.

“Shut up, will ya’, you’re not in class anymore you can relax.”

Kiyotaka only straightened up further and tried to match Owada’s strides with his own marches.

“Ridiculous! As long as I am in school I am a student and have no time to ‘relax’! Now let me go so I can go back to class!”

“Christ dude it was only homeroom, the teacher already marked you in as present, there wasn’t even anything else to do other than dick around until class starts.”

“Language! Also homeroom is where you get your mind prepared for the day and is a good place for some last minute homework. Which I’m sure you’re familiar with, Mr Owada.” The burning was back now and rising up to his chest. Kiyotaka swallowed down a glob of his breakfast and focused on scowling.

Owada just snorted, and buried his other hand in his coat pocket.

“Whatever man, i was gonna leave anyway, you just gave me a good excuse.” He muttered, then let go of Kiyotaka’s arm to shove him between the shoulderblades. Kiyotaka yelped as he was pushed, and collided with something soft.

“Whatever man we’re here. Miss Fuji-something wants you to take care of this loser so she doesn’t have to take care of him.” He heard Owada say, followed by a clicking sound. He looked up from whatever he had landed on-to make direct eye contact with Tsumiki, the Ultimate Nurse. Looking down again he saw his arms had encircled her waist and his face had made unfortunate contact with her breasts.

“Haha, congrats getting to third base dickhead, Leon will love this.” Turning back Kiyotaka saw Owada putting his phone into his pocket. A cold panic fell over him like an icy bucket of water.

“W-wait! Please don’t show that to anybody! It was an accident!” He screamed, jumping away from Tsumiki like she was on fire. Her face only scrunched as tears built in her eyes.

“Sure thing pervert.” Owada just called back from where he was walking away. Kiyotaka’s neck twisted as he looked from Owada to Tsumiki wondering who to deal with first. 

“This w-way Mr Ishimaru,” before he could decide, Tsumiki took his hand with her trembling one and led him into his office.

She dabbed his forehead and made him stick his tongue out and asked a hundred and one questions, leaving Kiyotaka more and more confused and panicked than he was before.

What if people thought he was exaggerating his symptoms to get out of class or to garner sympathy. What if he missed something important he hadn’t studied for before and whatever notes he could borrow didn’t fully explain it. What if Owada shared that photo with the entire school and they all thought he was a molester and he was stripped of his title as Ultimate Moral Compass and kicked out of school and he had to go home.

“I-I don’t think you’ve been eating properly.” Tsumiki told him, giving him a sickbag to hold while she typed something onto a computer.

“No, I eat the same meal two times a day. Plain brown rice with water, for breakfast and lunch.” He explained, trying not to puke from either nerves or illness.

“Hm, that’s not e-enough though,” she explained, and they both jumped as the printer kicked itself to life, “you’re not taking in enough fruits or v-vegetables, not to mention protein, dairy, fats and sugars.”

Kiyotaka scrunched his nose. He had taken and passed every biology course he’d ever taken, and knew all of the basic food groups, but that surely didn’t apply to him. He couldn’t afford those kinds of fancy healthy meals the cafeteria served, and he certainly couldn’t beg his peers to share their food with him. He chose to keep his mouth shut. 

“Don’t you have a school stipend for this k-kind of thing?” She asked, gently taking the printed paper and scribbling something onto it. He pressed his lips closer together, ignoring the bile resting at the back of his throat. She just sighed.

“Here, take this to your homeroom teacher, and she’ll sort it out for you. I prescribe a healthy balanced diet. Thank you for coming in today.”

Realising he could leave, Kiyotaka leapt to his feet and bowed to her.

“Thank you for your help Miss Tsumiki, i’m terribly sorry for taking up your time! Please forgive me!”

“O-oh no, i’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help! Please forgive me!”

They kept apologising to each other until Kiyotaka had left the office. 

“Hello Ishimaru.” He flinched and turned around to see Miss Kirigiri waiting, hall pass clutched in hand.

“Kirigiri!” He bowed, giving her a smile. Her expression didn’t change. Turning around she began walking away, and he diligently followed. If Kiyotaka were better at reading faces, he might have picked up that she didn’t want a conversation. Unfortunately, he wasn’t, and began blathering away about whatever came to mind.

“I still can’t believe Miss Fujita made me leave class for something as silly as that! Not that I question her judgement, obviously, as my superior she isn’t to be questioned but really-“

“You could have been infecting the rest of us.” Kirigiri interrupted; the only thing she’d said in the five minute one-sided conversation so far. Kiyotaka wilted.

“W-well of course. But luckily it was just my diet that was the problem, apparently, so that’s that.”

Kirigiri gave him a look he couldn’t interpret. And as usual when he couldn’t interpret a look he nervously kept talking.

“I only ever eat rice and water you see-the only free things on the menu aside from that soup I had this morning-but I never eat that soup because it was unfamiliar and I don’t eat unfamiliar things, turns out it was quite the shock to my system hahaha!” He blustered, throwing his hands up as he laughed. Kirigiri just sighed, and turned a corner. He followed her, and bumped into her back. They had stopped in front of the homeroom. She turned around and fixed him a stony stare.

“You have no friends to ask for help as nobody here likes you, you refuse to use your school stipend on anything other than your families debt and your autism stops you from eating new things. Ergo you have been forced into this uncomfortable situation resulting in your illness. Have I got that right?” She asked, as airily as if she was listing off a shopping list.

Kiyotaka gaped at her, opening and closing his mouth trying to register what the hell she just said. They just stared at each other as if waiting for the other to say something. Eventually Kirigiri broke, and stepped away from the homeroom door, taking his shoulder and dragging him with her.

“I… am part of this club,” she hissed, head ducked, like she was worried someone would overhear. Kiyotaka waited for her to continue.

“Erm… well done. Extra curricular activities will look good on your resume-“

“No, it’s not that kind of club.”

She nudged her head in the direction of the door, indicating… something. The silence stretched on.

“...Kirigiri you know i’m autistic, therefore you should recognise I have no idea what you’re trying to hint to me here.”

She sighed, and stepped forward to open the door, walking through.

“Wait, homeroom’s over, we have chemistry now-“

A gloved hand reached through the open door, grabbed his shoulder and yanked him through


	2. Seems I can only post chapters when i’m violently ill i’m sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but shut up i’m sick

Ms Fujita was sitting at her desk with polite, squinting eyes. She had that colourful, obscure fashion sense that only belonged to drama teachers and lesbians. She waved Kiyotaka over to a desk.

“I would like to formally apologise for my behaviour this morning, Miss. I should never have endangered my school life experience in such a manner for such a petty reason.” He placed the note Tsumiki gave him on his desk, which Kirigiri took and handed to their teacher. She was standing between them like some kind of cout couture bodyguard. Ms Fujita read it and sighed, crumpling the thin paper between her fingers.

“This is what i’ve been meaning to talk to you about Ishimaru. I have for a while, in fact; it feels like everytime I see you you’re focused solely on the sake of the school and not yourself. You don’t talk to anybody, you eat by yourself at lunch, you have no extracurricular activities outside of your public morals commitee. Of course, I can’t imagine what kind of stress you must be under with all of your work, but we’re worried you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“‘We’re’” Kiyotaka repeated, sending a glance over to Kirigiri. She turned her attention to the wall behind him. Some poker face, for a detective.

Ms Fujita sighed.

“Mr Naegi came to talk to me a few days ago, apparently you and him had had some kind of discussion where you admitted to not doing anything outside of schoolwork.” 

The classroom went very, very cold all of a sudden. Kiyotaka’s hand clenched by his side, his veins nearly bursting out of his skin. The pain was grounding.

He shouldn’t have said anything. He’d nearly made a friend and then he went and ruined it again; he must have annoyed poor Naegi so much going on and on about his stupid childhood and family drama. No wonder the other boy felt compelled to talk to their teacher-if only to get the pressure off his back at least.

“I-i’m-i’m not,” he drew in a breath, sorting his spinning thoughts into a sentence, “I never meant to worry Naegi, I must have gotten carried away and exaggerated my circumstances. I’m perfectly healthy, thank you though-“

“No you’re not.” Kirigiri interrupted. His eye twitched. 

“Sorry?”

“You’re not healthy. You had to go to the nurses today, but you also have quickly been losing your vision; I see you squinting at the board daily. Also you never eat with anyone because you don’t eat at all; the same small bowl of rice three times a day adds up to one meal in size. Plus the bags under your eyes suggest you aren’t sleeping although-“

“Thank you miss Kirigiri,” Ms Fujita interrupted, strumming her fingers nervously on the desk. The multitude of clunky rings on her fingers clinked like acid rain against Kiyotaka’s steadily growing headache. He cleared his throat.

“I hate to seem disrespectful miss, but may I go? I have my next class to get to before lunch.”

“That’s actually what I came to talk to you about,” she said, tap tap tapping faster and faster.

“I run a club after school for students who are rather… inept with social graces, and me and the headmaster decided it would be in your best interest to join.”

Kiyotaka bit back a ‘Headmaster and I’, and instead stood up, offering a shaky salute.

“Ah-thank you but I need that time for studying-“

“It isn’t optional.” Kirigiri, picking at a gemstone on her glove, licked her teeth. He bit down the urge to scold her for interrupting.

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t optional for the rest of us, it won’t be for you. Either you join or you get into trouble. As is.”

She sniffed and carried herself out of the room, not sparring either of them a glance. Kiyotaka watched her go then twisted his neck from the door to Ms Fujita to the door and back again.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-“

“Don’t think of it as a punishment, it’s more like group therapy. A fun chance to bond with your peers and work together to improve your individual weaknesses, as a group!”

They just stared at each other. Her tapping slowed.

“It’s every Sunday from three pm to five pm, and we’ve made it so it doesn’t clash with anyone’s schedules. Plus that’s enough time so that you can still study. Isn’t that good?”

Kiyotaka blinked at her. A familiar stinging started in the back of his eyes, and he quickly swallowed down the bile building in his throat.

“Wh-when you say trouble…”

“Nothing like that dear, Kirigiri was just trying to intimidate you. We’ve been working on that with her but it’s a slow process. It would be preferable if you came, and if not we’ll mark you as absent, unless you have a good enough reason to not show up.”

His perfect attendance. His resume. His future, all battered because of some stupid club he never asked to join in the first place? To waste his time, not studying to solidify his family name and bring them out of poverty, but to sing kumbaya with some students who don’t even like him?!

His hands shook and he quickly placed them behind his back. His face wouldn’t smile, no matter how badly he willed it to. He had to be polite, he had to get along with his superiors. Or else he… he…

He ddn’t even know anymore. It felt like an entire day’s worth of fatigue fell on his shoulders, and he sighed.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement,” Ms Fujita clapped her hands, and rose from her desk, leading him from the room, “i’m sure you come around when you see the fun we all have at the club. Remember; three pm, music room, Social Limbo Club. Okay bub bye!”

The door shut in his face

**Author's Note:**

> On my insta @staringandstaringandstaring theres art of Ms Fujita


End file.
